The Job She Loved
by Channel D
Summary: A look at the career path of Cynthia, Jenny's secretary. Written for the NFA Women of NCIS challenge. One-shot.


**The Job She Loved**

**by channeld**

_written for_: the NFA _Women of NCIS_ challenge  
><em>rating<em>: K plus  
><em>genre<em>: character study  
><em>featuring<em>: Cynthia  
><em>author's note<em>: I've created a whooooole lot of stuff for Cynthia's background, so if you don't recognize some things in here, you'll know why.

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><p><em>disclaimer<em>: I own nothing of NCIS.

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><p>Cynthia Sumner had a job she loved, with a boss she admired and respected.<p>

This was back in 2002, when she was working for the National Security Agency. It was an exciting career and a great time, post 9/11, to feel like she was doing work that mattered. Work that made a difference. Work that helped keep the country safe.

Work that made her enjoy the start of each day was something that was important to her. While she wasn't entirely sure that working in Intelligence was what she wanted to be doing for the rest of her working life, it was extremely satisfying, and she felt lucky to have the job.

When she had graduated from college earlier that year, two months short of her 21st birthday, she had been a little unsure about this plan of action. Going for a master's degree first had always been her goal. Have the good underpinnings of education beneath her, and the world would then truly be her oyster. But when a family friend suggested she apply for the NSA job, as she was finishing her senior year of college, she'd thought, _Well, why not?_ She hadn't expected to even get a job interview. Her transcripts were very impressive, though, and her references solid. Cynthia was excited to tell her family when the job offer came on the first of July.

And then the ground fell out from under her, and everything she loved about the job was sucked into a black hole. Suddenly, her boss was gone; replaced quickly with someone she could not tolerate. The feeling appeared to be mutual. Soon, Cynthia and the NSA had parted ways…but not amicably.

She networked, touching base with people she had met in her time at the NSA. People in government often flitted between agencies, as many of the positions in each were similar. She took a temporary ("not to exceed 12 months, but with the possibility of permanent hire") job with the CIA, and found herself stationed in Paris. It was like a dream for the arts and fashion-loving side of her.

But the job itself was fairly dull. She enjoyed her time off work, visiting museums and galleries, attending shows, people-watching, and dressing as chicly as she could afford, but the joy of going to work wasn't there.

Then one night she was asked to work at a ball, sponsored (under another name) by the CIA. It involved merely sitting at a table with two other people, registering the guests. The glamour and the atmosphere made up for the dull assignment, she told herself. Then, suddenly, the computer system at Registration went wonky. The other two people on the table were at a loss of what to do. Cynthia calmly shoved them aside and approached the problem analytically, and within 10 minutes, they were up and running again, to the relief of the guests who were lined up to enter.

"You were very good at that," said a red-haired woman at the front of the line, smiling. In a low voice she added, "I'm looking for a few good forward-thinking people to work for me in Washington, starting in two to four weeks' time. If you're interested, call me." She pressed a card in Cynthia's hand and then moved on inside.

_Jenny Shepard_

_Director, Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS)_

_NCIS_. Cynthia had heard of the outfit. Working with a bunch of white-uniformed Navy men might be a little more macho than she would like, but this CIA job wasn't at all fulfilling. She stuffed the card in her purse, vowing not to make a snap decision.

* * *

><p>Two and a half weeks later, she reported to work at the old Forge Building in…no, <em>aboard<em>, she had learned…the Washington Navy Yard. With her Top Secret clearance credentials already established she was a shoo-in to be a technician in an NCIS division area called _MTAC_, and this pleased her. Ms. Shepard promised lots of high tech equipment, and the intelligence-gathering that she had always loved.

The job was engrossing, and her coworkers nice (and she rarely saw a Navy uniform (or a Marine one, as she'd quickly come to learn the scope of the agency) unless she went outside). MTAC, though, was rather like working in a movie theatre…with the house lights always down. Dressing smartly for this job seemed to be a waste of time, since no one could really see what she was wearing, and that irked her. But she continued to wear the finest office attire that she could.

Jenny Shepard called her into her office shortly after the first of the year. She went right to the point. "My secretary has just quit on me, and I need a replacement. Are you interested in the job? It would put you right in the stream of the NCIS data flow…and I've noticed that you enjoy having information at your fingertips. Plus, it's a pay increase."

She was waiting for an answer. Cynthia had already noticed that the Director did not like to be told that a response would come later. "Okay," Cynthia said, almost before knowing that the word was in her mouth. "Thank you, Director. When do I start?"

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><p>Her family was not pleased with the news. "Cynthia, we didn't put you through college for you to be someone's <em>secretary,<em>" her mother snapped.

"It's an _executive secretary_ position, Mother," she sighed. "Kind of like an aide, except I'm unlikely to travel with the Director."

"Well, you're still young," her mother said, not sounded really mollified. "You have time to figure out what you want to do with your life."

"I love it here," Cynthia said, her hand on her headache spot. Her mother always did this to her, darn her and bless her. And Cynthia did love NCIS. It could only get more interesting.

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><p>Being Jenny Shepard's secretary (and by default, door guard) meant that Cynthia had a lot more interaction with the staff than she ever had working as an MTAC technician. Most of the people who came in were a little nervous about having to see the Director. These people Cynthia tried to put at ease with a warm smile and a few kind words before they went in, She quickly learned that she didn't have to send them in immediately, so if it took a few minutes to help them get their equilibrium before entering the lion's dean, then that was what she gave them. The Director didn't seem to know about this, or at least, never said anything to her about it.<p>

And then there was Special Agent Gibbs.

He had no respect of boundaries, nor of the Director's title itself. He would barge in, without appointment, and demand to see Cynthia's boss. When Cynthia would try to stall in order to phone Jenny—which worked with _everyone else_—Gibbs would not wait, but usually charge into Jenny's inner office, unannounced.

There seemed to be multiple reasons for this (including why Jenny allowed it), Cynthia thought, mulling them over lunch on several occasions. Gibbs didn't care much what people thought of him. He was an excellent agent. And he had known Jenny for some time. Cynthia was not by nature _nosy_; she would call her trait _curious_. The story behind Jenny's and Gibbs' time together in Europe wasn't buried too deeply, and it didn't take Cynthia long to uncover it. But whatever Jenny and Gibbs had before seemed to be gone now, and it was clear that while he still might feel some affection toward her, Gibbs was not pleased at having Jenny be his boss. Cynthia, loyally on Jenny's side, found him infuriating.

Cynthia was not the type of secretary to blab secrets. Whatever she learned went no further. While she adored Jenny, and was grateful for the job Jenny had given her, Cynthia came to realize that Jenny was not a perfect person. She sometimes let her temper get the better of her. Too often, in fact. There was the time that she kept Gibbs out of the loop when she had one of his teammates—that DiNozzo fellow—doing a lengthy undercover job for her. That didn't seem right to Cynthia. _Look at me; sympathizing with Agent Gibbs._ But she said nothing about it. Jenny seemed to really prize Tony DiNozzo—grooming him for a promotion, maybe? Cynthia thought Jenny would do better to not take for granted some of the other treasures that NCIS had, like Agent McGee, who was amazing in his technical problem-solving, or Agent David, who had been hand-picked, after all, by Jenny for Gibbs' team. Or that quirky Abby Sciuto—Jenny seemed a bit baffled by Abby's tremendous knowledge, and so kept her distance. That was a shame.

It all was, really. As a leader, Jenny was not charismatic. She led by brute force rather than kindness. Yes, it got the job done, but her way meant that it took people a long time to warm up to her. Some people never did.

And then there was the matter of Jenny's drinking. While Cynthia had never seen her boss drunk, or even bordering on it, her reliance on alcohol (even in her office!) was frequent enough to be disturbing. Cynthia understood that Jenny had had pain and sorrows in her life…but then, who didn't? Cynthia wished Jenny could rise above temptation, and throw away this crutch. Still, Jenny got the job done.

Everything would have been fine, perhaps, if it weren't for one obsession Jenny had…perhaps fueled by the demons in the depths of her bottles. That obsession was nicknamed _La Grenouille._ He was a crook of the highest magnitude, and Jenny would not give up the pursuit for him. Once he was found with a bullet in his head, Jenny's outward demeanor may have calmed…but Cynthia heard the undercurrents of talk from all over about who might have killed him. It was disquieting. No one was ever brought to justice.

If Cynthia thought that storm was hard to weather, she had to prepare better shelter for what was yet to come. Jenny's drinking didn't abate; in fact, she seemed to draw more into herself. There was strange talk about her long-dead father possibly still being alive. Jenny didn't even look entirely well, although she categorically denied any illness to Cynthia.

And then, Jenny suddenly left on a mission to California, taking Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David with her as bodyguards. They were the best choices, true, but…anytime the Director went on the road, Cynthia felt a little anxious. Still, she would never have dreamed that her beloved boss, who'd once brought her a _Hermés_ scarf from a Parisian trip, wouldn't return. There were no words to describe the shock when the tragic news came.

* * *

><p>With the sudden appearance of <em>that man<em>, that smug, toothpick-chewing Leon Vance from the San Diego office, Cynthia's once-rosy world again crumbled into gray…much the way that her NSA job had gone, years ago. Cynthia had heard Jenny speak of him, over the years, and Jenny's words were not kind. They were two very different types, and Vance's hostility toward her former boss was impossible to miss. _You didn't know her like I knew her!_ Cynthia wanted to scream. But she didn't. She kept this to herself. She found Gibbs' altercations with the man almost amusing, though she never let on that she did. Now, finally, she was beginning to admire some qualities in the individualistic silver-haired man.

It wasn't until it was apparent that Vance _assumed_ Cynthia would stay on as the Director's secretary, without _asking_ her, that Cynthia finally blew up. She told Vance to his face what she thought of him and his brutal treatment of people (including the splitting up of Gibbs' team, as punishment), and didn't mince words.

This was a career-ending action, and she knew it. She packed her few personal things in a tote bag, signed the official paper of resignation, and left. Her only regret was that no one at NCIS would see the new dress that she had planned to wear tomorrow. She'd get over that.

Cynthia was 27 years old, and was confident that her best years were ahead of her. Her network of acquaintances in government had grown large in her years at NCIS, and her feelers quickly produced a long list of jobs available, and suitable.

In a month she had the one she really wanted…at least, for now. It was with an agency that would have her doing lots of travel, delving deep into intelligence, and maybe just a smidge toward the investigative side. Yes, she was edging toward something like being a special agent. Maybe that was where she would wind up. Right now she was again doing work that mattered, work that was important, work that made a difference. And most of the skills she would use in the job were ones that she'd brought with her from NCIS. Those years, working with Jenny, and facing the legion of agents and others, had been a delight, and would be remembered fondly.

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><p>She didn't stay in touch with anyone from NCIS…with one exception. Two or three times a year she would send a picture postcard to Gibbs, at the HQ address. The picture would be something pretty showcasing her current location: a beach in Greece, a mountain range in South America, the busy streets of Tokyo, the Stockholm archipelago, and more. Cynthia would not list a return address nor talk about her work. The cards only give a few sentences about how she was enjoying the area, and a hope that Gibbs and his people were doing well. The cards were only signed "CS", but she figured he would know.<p>

She hoped he enjoyed getting them. Who knew: maybe one day the winds would blow her back to employment at NCIS, in a post-Vance era, and then she would ask him.

-END-


End file.
